


The Night Before

by emmiimu



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmiimu/pseuds/emmiimu
Summary: Directly after the success of their hit film "A Hard Day's Night", John and Paul branch off from the hopping after-party to spend some time together in their hotel room.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first Beatles fic. Unfortunately I forgot where I was going with it so I left it at a confusing spot. But it felt weird just to leave it, so I'm posting it here : )

John was always very protective of certain people in his life.   
People he felt very close to.  
Those of which he truly cared about, namely his best mates; his band mates.   
But mainly Paul.  
John felt the biggest connection to Paul.  
He felt he needed to be around Paul as much as possible, to make himself happier.  
Constantly by his best friend's side, always trying to make the other man giggle.  
John only wanted to spend all of his time with Paul, and Paul loved being around John, which made them easily the most inseparable pair of people anyone had ever seen.  
Paul loved the jokes John would constantly crack, and he admired John for his confidence and brilliant mind that could only match his own in wit.  
And it was extremely apparent that John absolutely adored Paul.  
The long, pointed glances he would unintentionally give the younger man, all of his focus most of the time on Paul.  
Most of his attention was given freely to Paul.  
Just trying to make the younger man smile, crack up during interviews, or mess up during a show because of John’s countless efforts to distract him.  
And he always did.  
And Paul would beam at John in excited glee, moving his chair to sit closer to his best mate, mindlessly allowing for their knees to touch, or their arms to graze.  
Even taking John’s hand when he offered it in playful interaction, both men giggling at the rise in attention it got from their screaming fans as they walked or skipped away together hand in hand.  
Paul admired John and his cheeky humor.  
And anyone who paid any attention could see that their tiny exchanges meant the world to John.   
Just glowing in adoration when Paul would rest his head on John’s shoulder during long, exhausted trips to different locations to play their many gigs.  
Whenever Paul would laugh at one of his many ridiculous pranks he would pull on anyone in his path, it would give John the fuel he needed to continue trying to make Paul smile.  
Unbeknownst to Paul, most things John did was to entertain him. Or just to get Paul's attention because John thrived when Paul’s full undisclosed attention was on only him.  
When Paul was laughing in the wake of something ridiculous that John always managed to pull, it was the happiest John would feel and he surged with excited amusement.  
Paul always giggled a little more when he had been drinking and John adored when Paul had had a little too much to drink.  
He was an extremely lovable drunk and John could get very close to Paul without being worried of pushing his best mate away with his affection.   
They would often branch away from the rest of the group and it was then that John could truly be alone with Paul.  
Enjoy his time with the other man away from everything else that created a whirlwind of distractions in their young lives.  
That night had been similar, with the whole band finally managing to escape a late party that had been thrown for them in honor of the completion of their first motion picture.  
A Hard Day's Night had been a huge time consuming project that they were thrilled to have been a part of, but none of them could deny they were relieved it was all over finally.  
It had been a swinging party that every member had thoroughly enjoyed immensely, but it had been going on for a good portion of the night, and for George and Ringo it was time for a decent night's sleep- one they thoroughly looked forward to for the entirety of the movies’ filming.   
But for Paul and John- the two biggest partiers in the group- they refused to quit and decided- despite the many crowds of people that wanted to continue partying with them, no one was a better company to entertain themselves than each other.  
So with a bottle of champagne John had nabbed from the after party as it chilled in ice, the two men had stumbled out of the limo escorting them to the hotel they were currently crashing at, and found themselves practically carrying one another out of the elevators, and through the hallways, searching for the room they were sharing.  
John's arm wrapped firmly around his best friend's waist, holding him protectively, while Paul leaned into the older man, giggling uncontrollably, his intoxication clearly evident.  
John's was just as easily apparent but he was just a little more stable and was actually able to walk for the both of them- something he liked to pen down as ‘Paul’s uncontrollable ability to be a lightweight’, but it never seemed to bother him having to take care of the younger man, and always would just shake his head and grin about it.  
Holding a squealing and overly happy Paul up while he searched his suit pocket for the hotel key proved to be far more difficult than originally planned.  
But after some serious digging through all his pockets and retrieving the small key, he finally got the door open and both young men practically fell through the doorway, stumbling into their room with loud snorts and high pitched giggles.  
Paul clung to John’s strong neck until they had safely made it to the king sized bed, and gracelessly flung himself across the white duvet, bouncing slightly from the impact, then stilling, his whole body outstretched across the mattress.  
John paused, just watching him in intrigued curiosity, grinning profusely at the sight of the other man laying flat on his back, arms outstretched above his head, and his eyes shut, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering, a drunken smirk playing across his full, pink lips.  
John studied how Paul's clothed chest moved in a steady up and down rhythm, Trying to catch his breath after their venture from the cab earlier.  
As his hooded eyes eagerly took in the sight of his inebriated friend, a small patch of soft, pale skin that had been hidden under the disheveled white button shirt was suddenly exposed and one of Paul's hip bones jutted out above his waistline.  
John’s throat suddenly went dry, and he tried to swallow despite the lump, his Adam's apple bobbing in a frantic motion.  
Paul's eyes fluttered open at the sound of the other man nervously clearing his throat loudly, and for a brief second their eyes met and John’s cheeks immediately darkened in a slight red tint.  
Paul picked his head up from the bed and cocked it slightly to the side in a curious manner.  
He was far too intoxicated to really pick up what the long, pointed stare from his friend truly meant, and he looked up at John with a slightly drunk, goofy grin, not really registering the way the other man quickly looked down, avoiding all eye contact with him.  
The moment ended quickly, relief washing over John when Paul literally shrugged off the situation and rolled over onto his belly, feet kicked in the air behind him, swinging them in a childish glee.  
He grabbed a magazine that was laying on the nightstand next to the bed, and began loudly flipping through the pages, looking most likely for an article about them, hoping to see a black and white photo of himself and the rest of the group, posing in one of their many ridiculous poses that was forced on them by countless off-color photographers, trying desperately to do something different.  
Paul snickered in excited amusement when he finally came across a big spread out of his face.  
The words “The ‘Cute Beatle’ on lost loves, what it's like on the road and just what tickles his fancy!” surrounding the edges of his full face, framing the roundness of his cheeks quite well.  
Paul chuckled, turning to John.  
“Look at this one! These silly articles always manage to make me sound like some sort of a fruit tart with all these woman troubles, while somehow maintaining my single lifestyle. I just don't understand the appeal of these.” He shook his head, still grinning, making room on the bed for john to squeeze in next to him despite it clearly being a king.  
John chuckled, flopping on his stomach as well, trying desperately to pour a glass of the champagne he stole without spilling it all over the white duvet.  
“At least they got your good side, mate. They always make me look like a well known drag. You still look fuckable, Paulie.”  
He grinned darkly into his full glass, taking more than a couple sips from the crystal in his hand.  
Paul giggled, blushing slightly.  
“Oi! Piss off! I always look fuckable, John!”  
John snorted into his already half swallowed drink, not acknowledging the soft shove on his arm from Paul's sudden disagreement.  
“This is very true.” He muttered softly into glass, almost hoping Paul didn't catch it, but at the same time, just wishing he could actually just get it out in the open.  
Paul’s red cheeks only pinkend more, and John tried his absolute best not to try to cup the soft, full face in his hand and stroke the pouty bottom lip with his rough thumb.  
Instead he rolled onto his back, laying across the bed,his head nonchalantly rested on Paul’s lower back, ditching the glass in his hand with a clank on the ground somewhere, and just holding the still fairly full bottle to his chest.  
He sighed deeply and shook his head, shutting his eyes briefly.   
Paul could sense the slight change of character in the usually loud and proud Lennon, but something seemed off with his best friend lately.  
He carefully rolled onto his back as well, being sure not to knock John over from his resting position, and lay down as well, softly stroking John’s soft auburn hair in a comforting way, wanting to ease his mate of the stress he could so easily pick up on.  
John felt far more relaxed at this instant than he had felt all day.  
He truly relished in sweet moments such as this, and just wished it would never have to end.  
He took a swig from the large green bottle, handing it to Paul who took it gingerly.  
“Y’know, Macca? Sometimes I just wish all this nonsense, all these screaming girls, all this craziness would just go away, just fuck off some days. Just so that peaceful moments like this could last longer.”  
He breathed deeply, but tried to keep still, feeling Paul tense slightly and pause his hand in its gentle, relaxing caresses to his head.  
Paul took another long swig from the bottle before handing it back to John.  
“Me too, Johnny. Me too.”  
John grinned, looking up at Paul and catching the younger man’s large, brown eyed gaze, a devious glint in his own.  
“Well, why don't we do something to make this night a bit more memorable, shall we?”  
Paul didn't quite know what he meant, and furrowed his dark brows in confusion.  
“Whatchu mean, Johnny boy?”  
John's grin stretched wider across his handsome face.  
He was thinking something devilish, and Paul was never sure how to feel when John got this way.  
John sat up suddenly, grinning evilly making Paul feel uneasy, but intrigued.  
“Let's play a game.”  
Paul let out a small sigh of relief, worried that whatever John had in mind would have involved breaking some minor laws and creating some form of havoc which was the norm with the mischievous Lennon.  
Although, with the look John was giving him, it could have easily gone that way, knowing how mischievous the slightly older man could be.  
Despite his better judgement, being clouded by the one-too many drinks of champagne he had just mere hours before, Paul nodded meekly.  
“Alright, John. I'll play.”  
John cackled excitedly, causing Paul to regret his decision almost immediately, and jumped off the bed in surprising speed.  
Paul sat up confused, watching his friend sprint suddenly to the other room, still chuckling darkly to himself in a slightly unsettling way.  
“Oi, Lennon! Where you off to??”  
Paul tried to sound less nervous, and more curious, but he could never be too careful when it came to John and his big ideas.  
The older boy answered loudly from the other room.  
“Just getting an important factor to our little game, son. Won't be a moment.”  
Paul frowned slightly. John only referred to him as “son” when he was seriously up to something.  
John came bounding back only after a minute, brandishing a classy looking bottle of scotch that Paul recognized as the fancy hotel’s gift to every customer. Which is always placed prominently on the mantel over the fireplace, and usually left untouched by most because of how pricey it is to replace.  
But here was John, jumping on the bed next to him, clutching the expensive bottle of boozy alcohol to his strong chest, looking insane and grinning maniacally.  
Without any explanation, John handed a small cylinder glass to Paul and brandished an identical one for himself from behind his back.  
Paul, skeptical, took the empty glass offered to him, and held it out, waiting for the other man to fill it with the contents from the intimidating looking bottle in his hand.  
John popped the glass stopper from the thin neck of the rectangular bottle with a muffled clank, and paused in his actions, raising a thick eyebrow.  
Paul furrowed his own brows in a slight irritated confusion.  
“Well??”   
He questioned impatiently, still holding tightly onto the shot glass.  
John stared into his narrowing eyes, looking the most serious he had looked all night.  
“If I pour you this glass of highly intoxicating liquid, there is no turning back, Paulie. This shot seals the fate and future of this game, and you are not allowed to Sally out of this one, yeah? We must play until this whole bottle is finished.”  
Paul’s dark eyes widened.  
“The whole bottle, Johnny?? I'm not sure if I can handle this much scotch in one night, to be completely honest with you…”  
John sneered, rolling his eyes.  
“Come onnn, McCartney! Don't wuss out on me now! If we open this bottle, we might as well finish it! We’ll be charged for the whole bloody thing, anyway…”  
John muttered, filling his small glass and moving on to Paul’s.  
The younger man, still looking unsure, accepted the brown liquid, holding it up to his nose and wincing at the thick smell of expensive liquor.  
John’s expression lightened again, and he chuckled once more, grinning at Paul.  
“This game is going to be much more memorable now, son.”  
He lifted his glass in a small salute to his mate.  
Paul mirrored his actions, hesitantly lifting his glass as well.  
“If we can still remember anything tomorrow, that is.”   
Paul interjected, causing John to roll his eyes again, but both boys swallowed their drinks without further discussion.  
In the same movement, both men shuddered, wincing from the taste, trying desperately to get past the flavor settling in the back of their throats.  
John coughed dramatically and furiously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gagging slightly.  
“If I was ever to taste the old Queens’ snatch, I'm sure it would have a flavor similar to this bloody awful shite.”  
John shook his head, looking at the bottle still in his hand, and Paul grimaced at the words his friend had just so freely shared.  
“Bloody hell, John! If it's all the same to you, I'd very much like to keep from sleeping on the dirty floor of the lavatory, while I clutch the loo tonight. Can we please avoid speaking about the Queen and her old vag? Please??”  
John grinned widely, a wicked thought no doubt passing through his quick witted mind..  
“I will, son --- for a kiss.”  
The older of the two leaned in, an evil smirk still displayed prominently across his handsome face, the soft brown fringe of his bangs a bit disheveled and hanging just slightly over his eyes.  
Paul choked, gaping at the forwardness of his bloody mental best mate.  
“Oi, Lennon! Have you fully lost it??”   
He playfully shoved John back a bit, averting his eyes and mentally cursing his cheeks and tips of his ears for burning so hot and giving away his blushing face.  
He felt fidgety and nervous suddenly, and immediately felt the need to either hide or run away; his skin feeling tingly all over his entire body.  
John tried again, a bit more forceful, his drunken state no doubt having a play to what he was thinking, but it was sometimes hard to tell with him when it came to the sincerity of his actions.  
He pushed up against Paul, resting his sharp chin on the younger man’s strong shoulder grinning lazily, his long nose tickling from the dark locks of his friend.  
He slurred his speech slightly with a playful undertone, but it was spoken ever so softly, mere inches away from Paul’s burning ear.  
“Come on now. Give us a kiss.”  
Paul panicked, reaching for the bottle still loosely held in John’s hand, and ripped it out of his friends’ grasp in a sudden frantic motion.  
John jumped slightly.  
“Oi, you bloody wanker! I call the shots on yer liquid intake here!”  
The tips of Paul’s ears still felt hot as he fumbled with the glass stopper.  
“I know. I just thought we ought to get this game goin’, Ya know? It's getting later, and I don't feel nearly as sloshed as I would have hoped by now...”  
He glanced at John timidly through his long lashes praying to all that was holy that his sudden change of demeanor, and immediate sobering hadn't been picked up by the other.  
John paused a beat, letting his thoughts catch up to his inebriated mind, and clicked his tongue in agreement.  
“You're right, Macca. You always are. But my rules and my terms here, m’boy.”  
Paul breathed a small sigh of relief, able to take John's focus momentarily off him and back onto the bottle neither really wanted to open again save to feed into their need to avoid sobering up.  
John once again took control of the amount Paul would consume and poured two uneven amounts of liquor into both shot glasses, giving his mate the slightly overfilled one.  
Paul frowned a bit, studying his shot, uncertain about just what John may had in store for him.


End file.
